


Decompose in solo

by CinnamonOwl



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Implied Relationships, M/M, One Shot, Short Ficlet, Someone Help Will Graham, first time posting something
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-23
Updated: 2014-01-23
Packaged: 2018-01-09 19:27:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1149901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CinnamonOwl/pseuds/CinnamonOwl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The world doesn't stop going round. The sun goes up every day, the rivers keep flowing, and hearts keep beating. So why can't you do the same?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Decompose in solo

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NACGiwie](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=NACGiwie).



> Hello, everyone! So, this is my first time ever trying to write something as in a form of fan fiction and characters. Me and my bestie G have decided to do a kriss-kross (or whatever it's called, sorry). Basically it's an exchange. My fort is drawing and G's is writing. SO WE SWAPPED UP. And you can see for yourself what turned out..
> 
> Originally she asked for Hannibal/Will hurt/comfort, but ahahaha I just wrote this lil lil ficlet and if somebody reads this I might roll it out into a bit longer story. :)
> 
> G I AM SO SO SORRY FOR THIS
> 
> Not beta'd

Dawn sets the deep fields of Wolf's trap with a dusky glown. The ever silent place seems even more imbued in the soft dusk. It's the time when the air feels more crisp, sharp and strong, when your heavy eyelids try to fight the light and the smell of burnt toast fills your lungs.

It's morning.

And Will Graham moves from the bloody stag's horns to a sweat packed bed. Lifting his head up he can't decide which one he'd prefer more at the moment.  
The man rises up from the bed and steps into an autopilot routine.

Wake up. Loath. Bathroom. Tootbrush. Dogs. Coffee. Dogs. Food. Burn toast. More coffee. 

Will takes in the smell floating from the cup, his favourite one, the one with a bunch of dogs and poppies and some other terrifically bright flowers he can't name. The cup, shining with it's colors, is so uncharastically Will, that it's probably the reason the man decided to keep it. Hannibal would always make a disgusted face at the cup and complain how distasteful the design was, though Will could see him smile from his own porcelain white cup and say that if somebody wanted to- Hannibal.

Hannibal. Hannibal. Hannibal. Hannibal. Hannibal. Hannibal. Hannibal. Hannibal. Hannibal.

The name blazes in his mind like a fire alarm and doesn't stop ringing from then.

Hannibal. Hannibal. Hannibal.  
Hannibal. Cannibal. Hannibal.  
Hannibal. Hannibal. Hannibal.

There would probably be an extensive heart ache in Will's body by now if there already wasn't a black hole in the place where his heart should be.


End file.
